


Day 4: Hand it over

by Erengalad



Series: Musketeers March 2021 [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: OCs include Gabrielle de la Fère and Louise de Montmorency, this is all mischief and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erengalad/pseuds/Erengalad
Summary: This belongs within the Wait & Hope canon/timeline.
Series: Musketeers March 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192586
Kudos: 6





	Day 4: Hand it over

**La Fère, 25 September 1634.**

The festivities around Saint Firmin had once been dear to a much younger Athos, and since Ninon had relocated to La Fère, the whole family had enjoyed a few days of leisure in late September.

It had only been Athos and Ninon that first year after her so-called exile; Aramis, Porthos and d’Artagnan had joined in the following one. This time, Constance, in need of some days away from Paris and recent painful memories, had joined them as well.

But the young widow had not been their only addiction that year, and that was the reason why Porthos was dragging a very hungover d’Artagnan through the halls of La Fère’s castle instead of through Ninon’s more humble rooms.

Porthos stopped when he heard some soft voices coming out of one of the rooms; he’d seen Athos and Constance already out in the gardens with lady Louise, his friend’s elderly aunt, but he hadn’t seen Aramis or Ninon since the previous night.

“You better tuck yourself in, whelp,” he said, tilting his head to take a look at the young man’s expression. “One would think you’d learnt how to hold your liquor by now.”

“I… was… I...” d’Artagnan began, but his habitual eloquence had been left at the bottom of a glass last night, and the young man sighed. The world span at a very unpleasant velocity around him and, after a few staggering steps, he let his brow rest against a wall.

Porthos rolled his eyes, opened the door to one of the rooms that had been prepared for them and steered them inside.

“Are you going to manage?”

But d’Artagnan batted a hand at him and he watched him collapse face-first on the bed. After a few grunts reassuring he’d be alright and with the promise that they’d go collect him before leaving for the evening attractions, Porthos left their youngest to the miserable sleep that awaited him.

Time to join the others in the garden, then.

But as he went back to the corridors, a hushed voice reached him, and then a rustle of silk and more gentle laughter. The musketeer advanced silently and peered through that half opened door only to discover madame de la Fère sitting between Aramis and Ninon, all three of them bent over a small wooden chest resting on her knees.

“Look at this tiny precious thing,” Ninon cooed. “He was bribed to sit on that stool, wasn’t he?”

“It is the only way to get someone so young to be quiet when an artist is involved but,” Gabrielle smiled gently before passing the tiny frame to the other woman, “his grandfather always knew how to make him comply.”

“How old was he there?” Ninon asked, her fingers tracing the fine golden contours of the painting.

Porthos chose that moment to clear his throat and knock a finger lightly at the door frame, to alert the others of his presence.

“Porthos!” Gabrielle called, beaming all the brighter. “Come here, boy. Don’t let these two have all the fun. They’ve been gushing over my memories for hours.”

“We were merely admiring the roundness of Athos’s cheeks,” Aramis said innocently, another portrait in his hands. “He was rather adorable.”

“He still is,” Gabrielle graciously informed him, driving an elbow into Aramis’s side.

“Only his mother would say that, madame.”

“Hand it over,” Porthos interrupted Aramis, a hand reaching out for the painting and mischief already gleaming in his eyes.

“This one first, Porthos.” Ninon pressed closer to Gabrielle to make room for him, and then gently put in his hands a tiny portrait of a very young _vicomte_ de La Fère. “Your baby lieutenant.”

“Oh.”

Porthos smiled at the tiny thing pictured in that small, round canvas; vivid blue eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair upon a round little face that couldn’t be older than three. The boy’s chubby fingers seemed to be holding something; perhaps a bird, but the paint there was dark enough and close enough to the border to be just a darker smudge with a barely distinguishable shape.

“He’s so adorable I might ask you for a copy, madame,” Porthos said but, in all honesty, his eyes had turned unreadable, a pinch of sadness and guilt breezing past them. “Does Athos know?”

“Know what?” Athos asked.

All four of them lifted their eyes to find Athos and Constance helping lady Louise into the room and, for a moment, no one answered.

Then Athos’s gaze set on his mother’s knees and he let out a profound sigh. 

“Mother,” he began, the fondest irritation tingeing his words. “Surely not the childhood portraits again?”

**Author's Note:**

> This belongs within the Wait & Hope canon/timeline.


End file.
